Zessara
Da, Elderman Tovis came around today while you were at the market. He looked right pale and was mumblin' to himself, but he asked me for two hens and all the incense we had. Said he was afraid and wanted to make an offerin' to Zess-''' '''Don't speak her name child. Wind is her element and words are written in it, same as any ink and parchment. Elderman Tovis was a fool to even whisper it. But who is she da? Why is the whole town tremblin'? She's the Witch of the Wind son. The oldest witch there is. Snow and blizzards descend at her sigh, wind that can strip the flesh from a man howl at her call, but the most dangerous air she can muster is music. Music so sweet it'll force a king to his knees, a dying man to his feet. Music that lures captains onto rocks, shepards to the cliff's edge and little girls into the woods. Even the Gods were humbled by her tune. No one has heard her music since the Old Times my son, but there's an eerie chill in the air, the wind whistles strangely on the rocks, and the mists swirl queer o'er the trees. I am as afeared as Tovis. My years are behind me, I have seen war and plague, harsh winter and drought. But for you I fear my son, I fear you may yet hear her tune. Zessara (Zess-ar-ah) is the Primordial of Air, one of the four ancient powers that ruled Tolas before the coming of the Gods. The only Primordial to walk among mortals in disguise, she features in hundreds of legends and myths that survive to the time of the Exarchs, her role varying between a harbinger of disaster to a muse of music and a lover of heroes. It is this engagement with mortal-kind that earned her the largest cult among the Primordials, which in turn made her the target of the Gods' wrath. Sealed away behind an impossible lock above a mountain peak, Zessara's howls still wail through the lands surrounding her isolated prison, a cry of rage against her shackles, and of betrayal against her former lover, Solonar. History They say the old king danced with wind, and held his court on clouds. Across his lands he flew with Her, and his people would look up with joy and wonder. But men are feeble creatures, feeble to their desires and doomed to err. She came across her lover, entwined win stupor with a peasant girl. Great is the wrath of a scorned lover, but wild was the wrath of the Witch of the Wind. From her brothers she borrowed earth and water, and sand blew across the kingdom, burying thousands while they slept. Water froze in the high air, and descended as snow and hail, killing the harvest and freezing the dusty ground. Wind stripped the land of huts and homes, leveled the woods where once they danced. It warped the great cities as pebbles on a beach, reducing palaces to mounds and castles to hillocks. When you walk among the hills to the south, beware the stormy nights when the wind remembers its mistress' ire, and listen for the cries of those doomed by a King's lust. - A common folktale in southern Hoffendale In the Age of the Primordials Zessara was loved and feared in equal measure. The most visible of the Primordials, she delighted in travelling the world, dancing through the air with her host of wind spirits, laughing and singing as she met with the creatures of the world. Kings held feasts in her honour, villages blessed her for rain and light winters, and sailors thanked her for fair winds. The Witch of the Wind knew all the world and its denizens, and delighted in the affairs of mortals. Many are the tales of her wrath however, either scorned by arrogant rulers or former lovers, offended by paltry tributes or ungrateful populaces, Zessara is known for her wild, destructive rampages and frightening cruelty towards those she perceived as wronging her. The most famous tale of Zessara however, is that of Solonar's hunt. The Wind and the Owl By day he chased her through the clouds, by night they lay beneath the boughs. Listen ye all close and hear, a tale of loss from yonder year. Quick were his arrows but quicker was the Wind, but night after night the Owl did sin. Lovers were they, God and Witch, and others feared one would switch. In War and struggle foes be foes, yet 'neath the stars they forgot their oaths.'' ''But the Crone of bones grew cold with rage as she watched her brother dance and play. Black and iron was the shaft she forged, to pin the wind and end it all. But on and on the Owl did fly, entranced by the music of the sky. 'Till at last his mighty quiver was light, and 'neath the peaks they came to fight. Yet sad and low her song did croon, and within Owl's breast his heart was hewn. 'Till from his hands he held a lock, in brass and bronze forged of rock. Within he did the wind ensnare, and wept before the silent air. Yet still his ears caught her tune, whistling sad from her prison's rune. '' ''Of his heart he forged a key, the sum of his soul's decree. And cast away he did his love, and far away he flew to mourn thereof. Yet lock and key are always bound, and both yet pulse with lover's sound. Beware the tale of the Wind and the Owl, the cause of many deeds a'foul. And know ye to fear the key, for what terrible bond such love must be. - An old Telinorian children's rhyme, often attributed to legends of Solonar and ZessaraCategory:Deity Category:Primordial